Mothers and Fathers, Daughters and Sons
by istie
Summary: The war has ended, and it is time to rebuild and to build anew. Garrus and Shepard consider a family amongst the myriad of projects they've taken on, but it can be naught but a daydream until they can adopt a child. Liara, however, might have a solution for them. Post-ME3, potential canon rewrite/tweak. Rated M for adult themes. On hiatus (focusing on Every One That Asketh).
1. Tea

A/N: Based on this prompt:

"I'm not sure if anything like this has been requested before, but if it has, I haven't seen any fills for it.

What if asari could meld with two minds at once? Or that FemShep and Garrus were just so close that they were basically of one mind. Shep and Garrus can't have biological children of their own but what if Liara offered to be some sort of asari cross-species surrogate to them? She would take the best of both Shep's and Garrus' traits and turn them into a blue baby. Basically this might be one of the fluffiest ideas for a prompt I have ever entertained but I love happy feels."

**Mothers and Fathers, Daughters and Sons**

* * *

It started with a question, as these things so often do.

"Have you ever thought about children?"

Of course, with these two, nothing is ever quite so simple.

"I'm flattered, hon, but I think you've gotten so used to me that you've forgotten the not-insignificant biological incompatibilities."

Around them, though, the impossible tends to be simply… improbable.

"Very funny, dear. But I'm serious. There are other ways of having children."

And the improbable becomes likely.

"The only doctor I'd trust to combine our DNA in a test tube is, God give the angels earplugs, dead."

It's just how they are.

"Not Karin?"

Really, the universe should take a leaf from their book.

"She's a military doctor, not a wizard."

Life would be happier, if more people loved like they.

"What about adoption?"

Even with just the two of them, though…

"There's no framework for that right now."

The Reapers never stood a chance.

"You and your bloody insistence on proper channels. I'm tempted to say you sound like Udina."

Because, after all…

"The world's got to rebuild somehow! And I do not sound like Udina."

There's no Shepard without Vakarian.

Liara leaned back, datapad forgotten on her lap, watching two of her best friends from across the room. She made sure she came out of her office at least once a day to have a cup of tea. One needed distance and objectivity, after all. Today, clearly, Garrus and Shepard had had the same idea. The two of them were sitting on a couch, Shepard leaning up against the arm, her calves resting on Garrus' lap. Garrus was idly tracing patterns on her shin with the tip of one gloved talon, currently taking a drink from his mug. Shepard had both hands wrapped around her mug, held up to her lips, and was contemplating her turian partner-in-crime through the steam. Even with their respective mugs obscuring their faces, Liara could tell they were smiling. Or, well, Shepard was smiling; Garrus was smiling as much as he could without spreading his mandibles too wide and spilling whatever that turian drink was all over himself.

She knew that Shepard was likely very tempted to say something funny just so that he'd grin.

She couldn't help but ponder their plight. Everything had fallen apart after the war. There were a lot of children running around, many of them sure to be orphans, but it was too soon to start picking up children and taking them in permanently. She made a note to dedicate some of her remaining resources to doing what she could to help them. She knew that Garrus and Shepard had semi-jokingly mentioned adopting from the impending generations of krogan, and while she admired their initiative, and believed that they, of all non-krogan, could raise a krogan, she doubted if they actually knew what raising a krogan involved. She hid a sudden smile in her own mug as she imagined their faces when they found out.

As to combining their DNA, they were absolutely right: Liara, even with her long list of contacts, could not think of anyone better suited to that task than Mordin Solus. Karin Chakwas, for all her inimitable ability to keep a dying soldier alive, did not specialize in reproductive science. Mordin would have figured it out. The child would likely have gestated in a laboratory, unless Mordin could have worked more magic on Shepard's twice-rebuilt body, because her body (upgraded as it was) would have rejected the little one–

Shepard's body would reject a turian child.

Liara drained her mug and stood up quietly. Garrus and Shepard both looked up at the same instant– no doubt due to their military training, or perhaps the synchronicity of lovers and friends. Liara smiled at them, and they smiled back. She left them to their conversation.

She walked to the small kitchen and rinsed her mug, then dried it and put it away. Her movements were fluid, a perfect cross between the deadly focus of the Broker and the curious attention of the archæologist. No one could see the speed at which her mind was working, or the butterflies that had abruptly popped into existence in her stomach. Her office door slid open.

"Glyph? I need you to find some data for me."


	2. Before

Liara gave herself a week to share her findings. Not because it would take her that long to collect, cull, sort, and analyze the data – that would only take a day or two – but because she needed time to process. She had recognized her feelings for the Commander early on in their friendship, and Shepard had possessed the grace to gently turn the young asari down. Liara had always been grateful to Shepard for that, and for having continued their friendship to the point where the two were more like sisters than colleagues. Liara cherished that relationship, knowing that Shepard understood and respected her like no other, with the obvious exception of her mate, Garrus.

That's where it got a bit complicated. Liara, leaning her forehead on the cool windowpane in her quarters, knew her feelings for Shepard had never really gone away. It was the main reason she still hadn't pursued Feron at all, though of course the Reaper War had gotten in the way of most romantic pursuits where the participants didn't have a shared interest in what Shepard affectionately referred to as "blowing shit up."

Liara had noticed the Commander's interest in Garrus likely before Shepard had, noticing subtleties in her language, her movement, her expressions. She had talked with Tali about that night on the Citadel where they had gone after Sidonis, and though she had never had the chance to hear the full story about Omega, she could see the way Shepard still sometimes looked at the scars covering the right side of Garrus' face, and knew that Shepard blamed herself– blamed herself for her death, for his loss of hope, for his desperate flight to that goddess-forsaken heart of evil, for not having taken the missile herself. The awkward, naïve archæologist had learned much in her years as an information broker on Illium. Everyone halfway decent blames themselves. She was privately glad that Shepard had managed to convince Garrus not to shoot Sidonis, because Shepard blamed herself for enough already.

Her work in tracking down the previous Shadow Broker was not the only reason Liara had avoided contact with Shepard during her pursuit of the Collectors. Having seen the way Garrus had involuntarily twitched when Shepard had hugged Liara when they first saw each other on Illium, and the way they stood inches closer without realizing it, then working with them to take down the Broker… it had been all too obvious, and all too painful. For years, knowing that Miranda was working to bring Shepard back, Liara had secretly nursed her feelings for Shepard, hoping against hope that she would change her mind, throwing herself into her work to avoid the inevitable second thought that she would not. Back on the Normandy after taking control of the Broker network, she had carefully voiced her suspicions, and her heart had simply cracked when they were confirmed. She was, of course, glad to know that Shepard was happy, and that Garrus was happy, and in no way was she bitter– but it hurt, oh Goddess, it hurt.

She had never been more glad of the numerous empty rooms in the Broker's base as she was that night. She'd cried and cried– just let it all out. She'd meditated: tried to focus her biotics enough to create a ball, like she'd seen the justicar do when she'd peeked in on her in the observation lounge. It was incredibly difficult, but by the end of the night she'd managed to hold it for a second or two, and she'd fallen asleep exhausted, tear-streaked, but feeling just a little bit better.

Things had been better after that. And then she came back to the Normandy, and worked with Shepard again, and knew that the twinges she felt weren't just residual pain from wounds sustained in the fighting. She also knew that what she was planning on proposing to Shepard and Garrus would require the utmost respect and understanding between the three of them, and she had to be in the right state of mind to even consider it– otherwise, she would be doing them a disservice, and the outcome would be… hurtful.

And so, she rested her head against the window, and gazed out into space.

Liara essentially only came out of her room that week to eat, drink tea, and wash. She shut off her datafeeds as much as possible, telling Glyph to inform her operatives that due to repairs from war damage, she would be unavailable except in emergencies. It wasn't entirely untrue. She did need to run diagnostics and repair systems which she'd been living without since the end of the war. There were a few urgent calls which went to her omnitool, and she dealt with those calmly.

The rest of her time was spent sitting on her bed or on the floor, eyes closed, shimmering biotic sphere held in front of her. She'd rigged a holoprojector to display the pieced-together images from the Normandy's cameras, graciously provided by EDI. She sat in darkness, lit by the stars when the ship flew at sublight speeds, and by the shifting lights when they ran at FTL. EDI cut the feed to black when they flew through a relay, the extreme light show a bit much.

Liara had only managed to hold a sphere near the end of the war, after the missions on Thessia: she had run to her room upon returning to the Normandy, shaking off Shepard's sympathy, ignoring Javik's strange cross of pity and condescension, and locking the door behind her as she slid to the floor, weeping. She had lain there for an eternity, tear-trails on her armour, joints stiff from the restrictive hardsuit, mind whirling, heart aching. Finally, she'd numbly stripped each piece of armour off, crawling to her bed, still sobbing weakly, feeling bereft – feeling like Noveria, but somehow so much worse. She sat on her bed, clad only in her undersuit, crossed her legs, and sought refuge in meditation. She drew on everything in her mind and body – each feeling, thought, and image – and gently let them leave her, directing them softly into a nexus of emotion which slowly began to coalesce without her noticing. Her mother had taught her this technique when she was even younger, more impulsive: when her frustration at not being delicate enough with her precision tools and fragile artifacts gave way to anger and destruction. Take everything from you, and let it go. Embrace the universe; meld with it. See it as your partner, your lover, your friend– one who lets you down, but who will always be there. Share your pain and suffering, your joy and peace.

When she had opened her eyes, much later, she was astonished to see the silver ball hovering above her lap. She knew, instinctively, what it was: she laid her hand on it as if caressing it, and then she mentally let it go. It dissipated into the air, into the fabric of the universe, and it seemed to Liara's tired mind that she could feel a subtle flash of biotic energy go through her and the ship. She took off her undersuit, pulled on some nightclothes, and slipped into bed.

Since that long day (EDI, who had been gently warding off many of her friends with a carefully-measured "Dr. T'Soni is meditating and wishes to not be disturbed", had told her that she had been in her room for roughly three shifts, or about eighteen hours) she had regularly returned to the ball meditation, feeling as if she was imbuing the Normandy with her own energy. It had struck her as maternal at the time, like shielding her friends. It had given her calm during the last days of the war. In the chaos following the final battle, she had not meditated more than a few minutes a day (though she was making excuses not to: there were many things about the end of the war that she did not want to revisit any time soon), and it was only now that she was drawn back to it. It was not solely for her own sake; for her friends' sake, she needed to be at peace.

The stars slipped around her still blue form, her face illuminated by the light flung from the ball floating in front of her, and she thought of Shepard, of friendship, of love, and of motherhood.

On the seventh day, still with her eyes closed, the ball still hovering in its eternal tranquility, she keyed open her omnitool and sent a short message.


	3. Mail

/Normandy SR-2 Internal Network: access ID LT-00247

/Time: 2186/09/06 00:06:23

/From: embraceEternity

/To: ShepardCommander, calibratingCherub

/Subject: coffee?

/Body:

Garrus, Shepard;

I have come across some information in my research that you may find interesting. If you'd like, we could meet for coffee or tea; wherever is fine, though you might want this to be a private conversation.

Yours always,

Liara  
_

This message may contain classified or otherwise protected information. Unauthorized release of any information contained in this message may result in appropriate actions being taken under the authority of Dr. Liara T'Soni, associate professor of Prothean Studies at the University of Thessia and information analyst.

/End

* * *

/Normandy SR-2 Internal Network: access ID GV-00152

/Time: 2186/09/06 07:15:48

/From: calibratingCherub

/To: ShepardCommander, embraceEternity

/Subject: re: coffee?

/Body:

Liara,

You know I'm a sucker for classified information. If Shepard's got the time, I'd be happy to chat. Even if she doesn't have the time, you and I should have lunch sometime. I'm dying to hear all the juicy stuff the Hierarchy's been getting up to that they're afraid to tell me.

Garrus

PS– Shepard, when are you going to get EDI to change our network tags back? It's long past "April Jester's" or whatever that human holiday was. Also, why didn't Joker get EDI to change yours?  
_

This message may contain confidential information classified by order of the Turian Hierarchy. Any individual or group found revealing classified Hierarchy information can and will be persecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

/End

* * *

/Normandy SR-2 Internal Network: access ID SH-00003

/Time: 2186/09/06 08:20:57

/From: ShepardCommander

/To: calibratingCherub, embraceEternity

/Subject: re: coffee?

/Body:

Liara, Garrus;

It'll have to wait: I'm neck-deep in meetings and retrieval missions. But I'm intrigued, Liara: you dropped off the map and that usually means you're onto something fascinating. I'm planning a day of shore leave for the crew next week, so how about six days from now, 1900 hours, my cabin?

Garrus: Joker wouldn't dare prank me. By the way, April Fool's was just an excuse: it's September by our calendar. I'll see what I can do about getting EDI to change them back: cherubs aren't really your style. Also, your signature cracks me up. You're always on about being a bad turian and now you have a warning at the end of all your messages saying that the Hierarchy will be all over your ass if you so much as breathe that "calibratingCherub" sent you a message.

S  
_

This message is personal correspondence from the desk of Systems Alliance Lieutenant Commander Shepard, 5923-AC-2826 N7, Special Tactics and Reconnaissance. Any information contained in this message should be considered classified under both Alliance and Council laws, and any breach of confidentiality can and will be addressed in an appropriate fashion.

/End

* * *

/Normandy SR-2 Internal Network: access ID GV-00152

/Time: 2186/09/06 08:22:04

/From: calibratingCherub

/To: ShepardCommander, embraceEternity

/Subject: re: coffee?

/Body:

It's a damn good thing we're friends, Shepard.

Also I don't even know what the hell a cherub is. Never mind, extranet, extranet…

Garrus  
_

This message may contain confidential information classified by order of the Turian Hierarchy. Any individual or group found revealing classified Hierarchy information can and will be persecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

/End

* * *

/Normandy SR-2 Internal Network: access ID GV-00152

/Time: 2186/09/06 08:25:16

/From: calibratingCherub

/To: ShepardCommander, embraceEternity

/Subject: re: coffee?

/Body:

Spirits, Shepard, that's just wrong. Please tell me I'm not that ugly.

Garrus  
_

This message may contain confidential information classified by order of the Turian Hierarchy. Any individual or group found revealing classified Hierarchy information can and will be persecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

/End

* * *

/Normandy SR-2 Internal Network: access ID LT-00247

/Time: 2186/09/06 10:34:28

/From: embraceEternity

/To: ShepardCommander, calibratingCherub

/Subject: re: coffee?

/Body:

Coffee next week works fine for me.

Garrus, I can see the resemblance…

Liara

PS- Garrus, I have some particularly delectable tidbits about the Vice-Primarch's daughter.  
_

This message may contain classified or otherwise protected information. Unauthorized release of any information contained in this message may result in appropriate actions being taken under the authority of Dr. Liara T'Soni, associate professor of Prothean Studies at the University of Thessia and information analyst.

/End


	4. Plans

Shepard, leaning on her console at the CIC, cup of coffee in hand, noted that her ship was very quiet with next to no one aboard. Her mornings usually started with a chat with Traynor as they made coffee in the mess, both early risers and lovers of good coffee. This morning, their conversation had been about the day's shore leave: a bit of harmless ship gossip about who was going where, and with whom. The two friends would carry their mugs up to the CIC, read their mail, and make a list of things to do for the day; once finished, Shepard would meander up to the cockpit to say good morning to Joker and EDI, and inform Joker of the day's plans. This morning, the plan had consisted of dock, then go have fun. She had chatted with them, discussing their plans, then bidding them farewell as they exited the Normandy soon after it had docked.

Making her way back to the CIC, she had exchanged words with her engineers, who were deep in animated conversation about the parts for which they were hunting. Adams had caught her eye, and Shepard discreetly let Ken and Gabby carry on, the both of them bantering, Kenneth gesticulating wildly. Adams had told her not to worry, that he would make sure they went off and did something fun, and that he would get the required parts shipped over to the Normandy. Shepard had told him to make sure he got some R&R too, clapped him on the back, and sent him off.

The final handful of crew members trickled out over the next hour, Shepard giving each a wave and a smile. Finally, only she, Garrus, and Liara remained. She was just about to ping Garrus and ask what was taking him so long when the elevator swished open behind her, and both the turian and the asari emerged, conversing intensely about the Hierarchy's political machinations.

"It just doesn't make sense. Why Caesus' daughter would elope with a rank-and-file officer is beyond me. What clan is he from again?"

"Umeric. It's a respectable clan. She's probably just in the throes of young love. Surely you can understand that, Garrus." Shepard detected the tiniest hint of a wicked gleam in the asari's eyes, but kept her mouth shut.

"But turians don't _do_ that!" Garrus seemed appalled, mandibles slack one moment, and nervously tight the next. "We're… we're not supposed to. You wait, your elders decide the best alliance, and _then_ you marry. Especially when you're the Vice-Primarch's daughter! Markus must be older than I thought if Elana could slip out from under his nose like that."

Shepard grinned. Garrus, too wrapped up in his tirade, didn't notice.

"Garrus, Elana Caesus was slated for the Blackwatch. She's good enough to slip out from anyone's nose, and I'm sure she knows how to lie to her father. Maybe this Tarsus Umeric has great potential, and if she hadn't eloped with him, the Hierarchy may never have known."

"So, Garrus—" Shepard broke in, carefully containing her amusement, "Are you saying that the turian Hierarchy _recommended _that you pursue an alliance with me? Is that all this is? Politics?"

To his credit, he didn't miss a beat. "Shepard, you're the best alliance the turian Hierarchy could ever ask for. Problem is, none of _them _have worked their heads out of their asses regarding turian-human relations, so I just had to take one for the team and figure it out for myself."

"Oh, is that so." Her lips quirked upwards in open amusement.

"Besides, we haven't eloped yet. So far this is just technically-forbidden fraternization across ranks."

Shepard threw back her head and laughed. "I love you too."

"Not to mention we're joint saviours of the galaxy. I don't think they'd even try."

"Are you suggesting we ought to elope and get it over with?"

"And miss the media event of the century? Imagine the morale boost to the galaxy!"

Shepard stared at him. "You're kidding."

"I thought that was human tradition, with the big dress, and the party… I was looking forward to wearing one of those– what do you call them? Tuxedos? Yeah. I thought I'd look damn sharp in one of those."

She shook her head. "You're incorrigible." She turned pointedly to look at Liara, as Garrus' mandibles shook in silent laughter. "What does the Shadow Broker have planned for her day off? Are we still on for coffee tonight?"

Liara smiled. "Of course, Shepard. And as to my plans – if I told you, I'd have to kill you."

Shepard grinned. "I've faced a fair few asari commandos in my time."

Liara didn't bat an eye. "I'm fairly certain none of them have tried to flay you alive with their mind, however."

Shepard feigned thoughtfulness. "I don't know, some of them seemed to be concentrating pretty hard…"

"Ah, yes, Shepard, but how many of them were a quarter krogan?" Garrus inserted slyly, earning him a death glare from Liara and a raised eyebrow from Shepard.

"How, precisely, did you find that one out?" Shepard inquired. Liara hid her face in her hands.

"A significant amount of a wide variety of Thessian liqueurs, and a very long night." Garrus patted the furiously-blushing asari on the shoulder (she responded by raising her eyes to the ceiling and begging Athame for strength under her breath), then offered Shepard his arm. "I believe the markets await us?"

Shepard set her empty mug down on her desk and took his proffered arm. "I do believe that is the case. Liara, I hope your day goes as planned. You can toss him into a bulkhead later if that makes you feel better."

"Glad to hear you're so concerned about my well-being, Shepard."

"Turian, the bulkhead would take more damage than you would."

"Charming."

Liara shook her head, her skin returning slowly to its normal hue. "Garrus, you are truly insufferable."

Garrus' mandibles spread their widest. "I try."

"Now," Shepard said, "while I'd be completely fine with sticking around, opening up my personal stash of Earth liqueurs, and bantering all morning with a few mugs of spiked coffee, I do have to find something for this thrice-damned dinner party next week, and I'm not sure whether that would work better drunk or sober."

"Drunk," Garrus said decidedly, just as Liara chimed in with, "Sober."

"Thanks, guys." She tugged at Garrus' arm gently. "I'll stick with sober. C'mon, you great big hedgehog. Nineteen hundred hours, Liara?"

"I'll see you then," Liara replied, waving as they left. She straightened her shirt, checked the details of her meeting on her omnitool again (though she had it memorized), and gave Garrus and Shepard just enough time to catch a taxi and leave the immediate vicinity before leaving the Normandy herself.

It was good to be in the company of galactic civilization again. Liara breathed in deeply, smelling the myriad scents of an interspecies hub – smoke, perfume, foreign plants, and smells you really didn't want to know about. Her pre-arranged taxi pulled up just at the edge of the docking bay, and she stepped in, greeting the batarian driver with a smile.

"Merician Place, if you please." The driver nodded curtly.

The skycar flew off, and Liara relaxed, watching out the window at the signs of victory over the Reapers. Shining skyscrapers in the distance (the docking bays were built over smaller buildings, for maintenance access and safety reasons); hundreds of other skycars weaving in and out in intricate patterns of invisible lanes. Liara loved it. She missed her time on Illium, in some strange way, and it was good to be back in a city. Back on her own. She cherished being alone even more than being with her friends, sometimes – Shepard had once described her as a bit of an introvert, and after looking up the human psychology behind the term, Liara had agreed. As far as she could tell, it probably had something to do with growing up with Benezia, and needing more space than the public eye could give.

She knew that the next several months would not be, by necessity, as private as she might have liked them, if this went the way she thought it might. Which was why she was going to meet with, and likely have lunch with, the one person she thought might understand the most. As the skycar pulled to a gentle halt in the transit hub near Merician Place, she thought she could see the distinctive armour glinting in the light as its wearer sat on a bench near the commemorative fountain. She paid the driver, tipped him generously, and alighted, taking a deep breath as she walked through the many people in the hub towards the open plaza.


	5. Among

Liara sat down on the bench. She could feel the calm radiating from the asari next to her; could sense the wisdom which came to be with hundreds of years of existence. Samara was silent, still on the park bench; Liara had no doubt that she was meditating in some invisible way which made her look perfectly at home in the midst of all these people, despite wearing ceremonial armour and being several hundred years older than any of them.

"Hello, Samara." She broke the silence first, feeling more nervous than when she'd had to bring home a less-than-satisfactory test to her mother.

The justicar turned her head to the young asari, and smiled. "Hello, Dr. T'Soni."

"Please, just Liara." She could hardly keep from fidgeting. She'd been through the phase in her childhood of wanting to be a justicar, just like many other asari – but to actually meet one, one of the few remaining—it was astonishing.

Samara inclined her head slightly. "As you wish." She turned back to the plaza. "I will be forward with you, Liara: this topic you choose to consult me on strikes me as… unexpected. Why not speak with your father? Or with Operative Lawson? Both seem more able to converse with you on this subject than I."

Liara couldn't help it. She was fidgeting, wringing her hands in her lap oh-so-slightly. "Well, yes, I had considered both Aethyta and Miranda—and I'm going to talk to them later—but Aethyta is out of contact range right now, and Miranda is undercover, so—"

The corners of Samara's lips twitched upward. "So I was your last resort?"

Liara's heart skipped a beat. "No! No, justicar, no, not at all, goddess no—I already wanted to speak with you, except I wanted to speak with father and Miranda as well, it's just I can't reach them, and you replied, and—oh goddess, I'm sorry, I should have known this would be a difficult topic for you, I can leave if you'd prefer…" She stuttered into silence, twisting her hands, staring at her lap, cheeks burning.

Samara smiled and shook her head lightly before turning to the distraught maiden beside her. "Calm yourself, young one. I have taken no offense, and was only curious. I am perfectly willing to share my knowledge with you. I am honoured that you would ask me. So please, relax. I was only teasing you."

Liara just about melted in relief, though she still burnt with embarrassment. "Thank you, justicar."

"Please, just Samara. Shall we go somewhere more private?" She stood in one fluid movement and extended her hand to Liara, who took it and stood as well.

"Yes, that would be good, I think. There is a small café nearby which is quite lovely." She turned and indicated west out of the plaza.

"Actually, there is an asari temple nearby, where I am staying. I think you will find it far more private. It is this way." Samara let go of Liara's hand and started walking north, towards a building with long, sweeping curves up to the stars. Liara hurried in her wake, mentally cursing herself for never quite leaving behind the awkwardness that had plagued her archaeologist days…


	6. Blue

The temple was mostly blue. This might seem obvious to a non-asari, assuming that many asari buildings would be blue, but this was not actually the case. Asari, over their long years, had developed an intricate tapestry of meanings for colours. Yellow and its various shades were often associated with war or dispute, black was seen as a colour of power and influence, and lighter pinks were usually used to indicate knowledge acquired through experience, to name a few. There were, of course, no set rules to using colours, but the grand majority of asari held closely to these paradigms of symbolism, and you would be hard-pressed to find any orange in a company office, for example, since it was often used as a symbol of athletic prowess.

There was one colour, however, which meant the same from Thessia to Omega, and that was blue. Blue was the colour of the ocean, of the sky, of the asari themselves (within reason and genetic mutation, of course). Blue meant life, in every shade. The palest powder blues were only worn by the longest-lived matriarchs, being the colour of the wisdom of the aged; asari infants and the youngest children were clothed in the darkest shades of navy, signifying the infinite depths of a child's soul. Expecting mothers wore deep, vibrant shades of cerulean, radiating their joy and trepidation as they swam in the deep oceans of motherhood. Blue was the colour of breath. Blue was blue.

This temple was blue. It was an open temple; all faiths were welcome, even non-asari. The asari priestesses who lived in the temple were both siarist priestesses and priestesses of Athame, and there were frequent visitors from the clergy of various other galactic faiths. Liara did not know enough to identify the various robes she saw as Samara led her through the main chamber, but she thought she could count at least fifteen different vestments clothing at least half a dozen species. It was mind-blowing, she thought: the aura of peace within the building was exquisite. She likened it to the atmosphere on a dig site, or in a laboratory: each person was attuned to their vocation, and each worked together with the others, even though differences of opinion were rife.

The initial chamber, the sanctuary, had been open on the inside, with a roof sweeping up in a long curve. The chamber was built like an amphitheatre, with successively lower steps leading to the flat, blank wall at the back which rose at least thirty meters above her head. The floor was an odd shape; Liara recalled an odd encounter with Joker one day in the cockpit where she had walked in on him watching a feed from Earth: when questioned, he had told her it was a sport they called "baseball". She remembered little else about the conversation, but noted that the floor of the temple was shaped roughly like the field upon which the humans had played. It had the effect of focusing all attention on the monolithic wall which rose at the front of the steps, bringing all those who needed the peace and calm of their spirituality in from the outside world to a focal point of the soul.

Liara had not found herself following any particular faith at that point in her life, but thought that if anyone here talked to her about it, she'd be happy to follow. She felt safe, inspired, and calm among the people here. Samara, she noticed, still commanded respect even here: the asari priestesses inclined their heads to her, and many of the other faithful took notice of her, even those who were not asari. Liara supposed that Samara struck an imposing figure, but she also knew that justicars had once been seen as messengers of Athame, and the mythos surrounding her warrior caste was hard to shake. Samara only smiled at them all, and continued leading the young asari towards the front of the temple.

When they had reached the expanse of blank wall, Samara stopped and closed her eyes. Liara looked around: several people were watching them with curiosity. Liara quickly looked away, feeling rather exposed, and instead looked to see if she could find a door. Indeed, she saw nothing of the sort: the wall seemed unblemished and unbroken. She stole a glance at Samara, and then caught out of the corner of her eye a single biotic spark travel along the justicar's hand. Samara raised her hand, opened her eyes, and placed her hand on the wall: a door swung open, revealing a set of downward stairs lit with cool blue panels on the walls. The justicar motioned for Liara to go first, and Liara stepped forward. Samara followed her in, and the door shut behind them.

Liara had heard only whispers and murmurs in the sanctuary. The quiet of the temple was almost palpable. She chanced breaking the silence, however, her curiosity rising with every step. "Where does this lead?"

"To my chambers," Samara replied. "These are for the use of justicars alone; it is the Code which allows us to open the door."

"Am I allowed to be here, then?" Liara regretted the question almost as soon as it had left her lips. It seemed a ridiculous question, easily answered by the fact that she was there at all.

"Yes, you are," Samara answered without the faintest hint of amusement. "You are with me. If I am correct, you will spend much time in these chambers, or ones like them. They are good places. You will like them."

They emerged into a small circular room with mats on the ground in the center and a pool of water on one side. It was dimly lit, but very clean. Liara could see a hallway to the right, but otherwise the room was unbroken. Samara gestured for her to sit, and waved a shimmering hand in the air, which increased the light level to a comfortable brightness. Liara sat, and the justicar followed suit.

"What you seek to accomplish is not a common occurrence, Liara, especially for an asari of your age."

"I know," Liara said softly. "But it seems to be the only way for them." She stared at her left knee, legs crossed.

Samara sat across from her, also cross-legged. "There is always adoption."

Liara looked up. "Yes, of course – but that is not likely to happen soon, and if there is any way to give them a child of their own, I am sure they would jump at the chance."

Samara tilted her head. "A pregnancy is not _soon_, either."

"No, no, I know." Liara shook her head. "But adoption, especially in this chaos, could take years. I am sure Garrus and Shepard _will _adopt a child, if not more than one. But they believe so strongly in rebuilding society that they do not want to simply pick a child up off the streets – they would rather help, and wait, and welcome a child when it is the right time."

"You seem to know a lot about what they want, Liara." Liara thought she could detect the slightest hint of admonishment in the older asari's voice, and cringed a little.

"I happened to be sitting in the lounge as they were having a conversation about the subject across the room. I couldn't help but hear. I haven't found anything out that they weren't open about." She deliberately laid her hands palm-up on her knees, the asari signal for openness and vulnerability – and also, by extension, for innocence. Liara knew that Samara, though she was one of the last handful of justicars, was still a justicar—and she also knew that Samara likely thought her work as the Shadow Broker was edging on unjust, according to the Code. An open declaration of innocence would assuage any doubts Samara might have about Liara's methods, if perhaps not her intent.

Indeed, Samara seemed to relax slightly, though the change in stance was almost imperceptible. "Very well. Do you think they would be open to considering this option?"

Liara bit the inside corner of her lip. "I do not know. It is possible. We are good friends, I think. But…"

"But this is outside the purview of your relationship with both of them."

"Yes."

"I feel that you are troubled otherwise about this."

Liara's heart dropped. Had she been that obvious? "Yes, I am. And that is… why I wanted to speak with you today."

Silence for a moment. Then, "Go on, young one. I am listening."

Liara took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. "I used to love Shepard." Samara inclined her head to indicate she understood, or knew, or something. Liara felt shaky as she continued. "I… have not really stopped loving Shepard. I have tried, very hard."

Samara spoke softly and kindly. "Have you spoken with Shepard?"

Liara felt her throat constricting, and bid herself not to cry, not here, not now. "Yes, years ago, on the Normandy SR-1. She…" Another deep breath. "She was kind, but told me she was not interested in a relationship, and we continued to be friends. I have not mentioned it since."

Samara's next sentence was almost sharp. "Are you seeking to replace Garrus as Shepard's mate?"

Liara covered her face in her hands. "No, Goddess, no!" She felt a sob slipping from her throat, and clenched down on it, curling over her folded legs. The sob forced its way out, and Liara felt her composure breaking, her heart laid bare by the calm voice and gentle gaze of the older asari. Liara shifted, bringing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around her shins, burying her face in her knees, crying as silently as she could into the fabric. "No, I swear by all that is good, I swear I'm not trying to take his place. I'm happy for them, so happy they've found something this good in this terrible universe, but oh Goddess, Samara, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts … "

She coughed once, still crying, then let the words continue to spill out. "I want them to be happy, I want them to have a part of themselves to care for and love and raise as their own, and they _can't_, Samara, and I can tell it hurts them so much, to love each other so and not to be able to _create _from that love! It hurts me to be alone, but it hurts me more to see them ache for a child… What injustice is this, that I can have a child with anyone I choose, but they cannot make that same choice?"

Liara felt a warm hand on her shoulder, and another on her waist. At some point during her outburst, Samara had crossed to her, and was now holding the younger asari gently. Her soft, gentle voice came from just over Liara's head. "You do not wish to come between them, but to go between them. Why, then, do you seek me? Why does this torment you? What are you seeking, young one who carries so much weight on her shoulders?"

Liara tried to breathe deeply, her chest shuddering, still sobbing. "Samara, oh you who know motherhood, _this child will not be mine_." Her shoulders collapsed, and she started crying even harder, her breath coming in short gasps, her exhalations threatening to become keening wails of grief.

She felt Samara breathe in deeply, the elder asari now sitting next to her, her right arm around Liara's waist, her left hand resting on Liara's hand on Liara's left knee, her head leaning against Liara's own. Samara did not speak, only sat next to her and breathed, and slowly Liara felt herself relax. Her sobs came less frequently, and she spoke after the two asari had sat in silence for several minutes.

"I… I seek peace. I seek reassurance. I seek comfort. I seek to know that I do not wish to carry this child of love for the most selfish of reasons. I seek to give Garrus and Shepard what they cannot give themselves." Liara forced herself to inhale and exhale three times before continuing, taking strength from the asari beside her. "Samara, I cannot bear the thought of being unable to conceive – unable to create. The blessing of creation is deep in asari tradition, in asari blood. To know that my mentor, my friend, the woman I love – to know that she cannot do what I am so capable of, it aches so badly. If she loved me, we could have a child – but she loves Garrus, and she cannot. It is not fair, Samara! It is not fair!"

Samara removed her arms from Liara and shifted to sit in front of her. Liara lifted her head and glared at Samara,who gazed back calmly with a hint of kindness in her eyes. Samara took Liara's hands in hers.

"No, child. It is not fair. I understand your plight. Let us meditate together, and share memories and desires. You have much more to tell me, I think."

Liara nodded, and with their hands resting on the floor between them, the two asari closed their eyes, and a shimmering silver sphere of biotic energy coalesced from the nothingness above their clasped hands as the lights dimmed.


	7. Shopping

"What about this one?"

"You're dead set on emphasizing my waist, aren't you?"

Shepard paged through a catalogue as Garrus rifled through a rack of outfits, each one just a tad too revealing for Shepard's liking. She'd never been the sort you might call a 'girly-girl': her upbringing had been anything but frivolous, and she hadn't worn a dress in … In fact, she couldn't even remember the last time she'd worn a dress. She was having a difficult time finding anything that remained functional while still being pleasant enough to wear to a Council dinner: this problem was compounded by the fact that she'd never been to a formal occasion where she wasn't either honour guard (and therefore saved by being in uniform) or a military guest of honour (and therefore saved by being in uniform). She literally had nothing to wear.

Luckily, she had the credits to solve that problem, and hopefully she could either sell it or stash it away in her closet to give to a daughter.

Or, um, niece. Or something. Friend. Liara would look nice in some of these, she supposed, rather awkwardly. While she had briefly entertained the notion of pursuing a romantic relationship with the asari, she much preferred the sisterly friendship they maintained now, and never having been one to truly appreciate the visual qualities of the opposite sex (or … uh … the potential romantic partner), she found it rather uncomfortable to think about Liara wearing something that … revealing.

Or that colour.

Wow.

She had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't heard Garrus suggest yet another potential dress; she had only happened to look up – but once she had, her eyes were immediately arrested by the dress he had taken off the rack and was holding up. It would be about ankle-length on her, maybe half an inch longer; it was a blindingly bright shade of scarlet with accents of deep red wine (not unlike her armour); the skirt fell straight to the hem, and the bodice finished in a mandarin-style collar at her neck with dark wine-coloured embroidery along the edges, and no sleeves. The most striking feature of the dress was the sharp, almost slashed-out sections which would sit just over her shoulders, revealing her collarbone.

It was gorgeous.

"You don't like it," Garrus said, very conscious of the fact that Shepard had been staring at the dress for almost thirty seconds without saying a word. "I knew I should have stuck with blue."

The words were barely out of his mouth before Shepard snatched the dress from his talons and disappeared into a dressing room.

* * *

Liara had intended to run some errands after meeting with Samara. Emerging from the temple, tear-stained and a little bit shaky on her feet, she realized that she had really not thought that plan out very well. She walked several blocks before coming to a small park, a spot that seemed to be isolated enough from the major thoroughfares and larger residential buildings that it was actually quiet. She sank down at the foot of a tree, crossed her legs, and contemplated the vibrant green of the grass beneath her for several seconds before opening her omnitool.

It was just after fourteen hundred hours. She had been in the temple for over three hours; nearly four. As if to remind her that time had indeed passed while she had been sequestered in those silent blue chambers, her stomach growled. She hadn't realized just how hungry she was, and this thought propelled her up off her feet and back onto the sidewalk. She marked the location of the park so that she could find her way back later. It truly was an idyllic little haven.

She bought lunch at a small café about twenty minutes' walk from the park: the fare was neo-Thessian with heavy nods to the human colonial influence in this area of the galaxy (not to mention due to supply limitations). She had picked a fast-food-style take on an old Thessian casserole: consisting of various vegetables chopped with a lean meat, the distinguishing feature of the dish was the sauce in which the whole thing was slathered – namely, a light-yellow creamy sauce which was quite tart and usually offset by a heavy sprinkling of various herbs. In Thessian cuisine, it was normally served over a large-grain base, but this particular variant used a human food something like bread to actually encapsulate the casserole. Liara thought this was genius, especially for eating on the go. She made a note to mention it to Shepard, to see if this was something they could make in the Normandy kitchen…

* * *

Garrus and Shepard had lunch in a somewhat awkward fashion, as per usual. They'd both realized far later than they should have that they were hungry: they had been hunting for accessories for Shepard's new dress, as well as a tailor that would fit a tuxedo for a turian. (Shepard had had no luck in convincing Garrus that he truly did not need a tuxedo. In fact, if you'd pressed her, she would have had to admit that she was starting to like the idea.) He had also insisted upon finding cufflinks, once he had managed to figure out what they were. In any case, three tailors, five jewellers, and one horologist later, they had managed to get the name of the single turian tailor in the city (widely regarded as an eccentric by the locals) … who was, as fate would have it, exactly on the _opposite_ end of the city.

They had also managed to collect a set of hanar-made earrings crafted of carefully-spun gold wire and a bright, dazzlingly red hanar gemstone called Ocean's Fire, a quarian-crafted hairpiece made entirely from copper circuitry and recycled eezo crystals (carefully woven together into a very stylized mass relay, and polished until it gleamed), and a human-made pocketwatch with the Apien Crest star cluster engraved on the cover. Garrus had been absolutely taken with the hand-crafted clockwork which the horologist had shown him: he'd briefly explained to Shepard (well, 'briefly') that turians, essentially having both too few and too large fingers to do this level of fine metalcraft, had essentially skipped fine mechanical work in their technological evolutions. When challenged about modding weapons, Garrus had indicated his omnitool, and then immediately looked at the pocketwatch. He'd then gotten the gleam in his eye that meant he had an idea, and they'd since sat in silence as he tried to work out how to make clockwork components using the minifabricator on his omnitool.

And so it was that they found themselves sitting in a skycar, contemplating the view, when their respective digestive systems announced loudly – at the same time – that they had not eaten since roughly eight hundred hours this morning (or earlier), and that it was now fifteen hundred hours.


	8. Talk

The Normandy flickered back into life gently, lights turning on as crew members returned. Shepard and Garrus had been the first two back, arms full of shopping, at roughly seventeen hundred hours. Most of the crew were staying off-ship for dinner, but the Commander and her XO had … other ideas.

Liara and Tali returned shortly after eighteen hundred hours, having met for dinner. Liara, with her various connections, knew a place which served actual quarian food, using a special blending method. It was expensive, but worth it. In a few years, it looked like the quarians would be able to leave their suits – in the meantime, Liara could spare a few credits to treat her friend to a decent meal. It had also served to keep Liara's mind off the impending conversation between herself, Shepard, and Garrus, which she'd found rather desirable at the time. Once aboard the Normandy, Tali had disappeared to Engineering to install some new technology she'd purchased before they left the dock, and Liara had slipped into her room, changed into another set of casual clothes (her previous outfit was rather wrinkled and tear-stained after the beating it had been through earlier), and turned on a recording of the stars on her holoprojector. She needed this last little bit of time to meditate once more before nineteen hundred hours.

At roughly eighteen hundred thirty, Joker and EDI returned to the ship, discussing the intricacies of the old Earth tradition of Christmas dinner. EDI hadn't quite grasped the contradictions inherent in spending enjoyable time with one's extended and slightly-estranged family, and Joker was insisting that the yearly food fight in the Moreau household was "a pillar of Earth history." Engineer Adams passed through the airlock about five minutes after them, and heard Jeff say "no, no, EDI – having turkey thrown in your face is an expression of undying love among my people". He briefly considered informing EDI that Joker was well and truly pulling her chain, and that he might have some family issues to work out, but then he thought better of it, and walked on.

At eighteen hundred fifty, Liara opened her eyes in the dark starfield of her quarters, and spoke.

"EDI, could you possibly halt elevator privileges to the top floor of the Normandy after I go up there in ten minutes? I'd rather not chance any interruptions."

The response was swift and direct: no one would have guessed that one floor up at the bow of the ship, EDI was now engaging in a discussion of the merits of the Earth sport paintball. "Of course, Dr. T'Soni. In fact, I was already under orders from Commander Shepard to block elevator access to the top floor, notwithstanding your arrival in approximately nine minutes."

Liara blinked. That wasn't like Shepard. She had quite the open-door policy.

But …

Oh.

"EDI, when did Commander Shepard return to the ship?"

"At approximately seventeen hundred hours."

"Was she alone?"

"She was accompanied by Officer Vakarian."

Ah.

"Thank you, EDI."

"You're welcome, Dr. T'Soni."

Liara dropped her face into her hands, her cheeks feeling ever-so-slightly warm. There was no need to feel awkward. They could have decided they wanted a private dinner. Or perhaps they were playing a good old-fashioned game of chess. Or…

Her omnitool beeped, signaling eighteen hundred fifty-seven. Goddess. Already. She turned off the holoprojector, stood, exhaled, and headed for the elevator.

* * *

Shepard's door buzzed.

"Come in, Liara."

The door slid open with a light _swoosh_ sound, and the Shadow Broker entered Shepard's quarters, looking nervous as hell. Shepard smiled, standing on the lower level, just beside her armour locker. The bed was perfectly made – soldier-straight creases – and the room was perfectly tidy. Shepard thought she could see Liara's eyebrows flick upwards just the tiniest bit.

"Come on in, Liara, don't hover. I've just finished making tea. Come sit with us and let's talk about whatever it is you want to talk about." She gestured to her left, where Garrus was sitting on the couch, leaning back, long arms thrown up along the top edge. The asari walked in and down the stairs, then took a seat on the end of the couch nearest the stairs. Shepard stepped past her neatly and sat down in the corner of the couch, between the two.

Shepard scooted forward slightly and indicated one of the mugs on her coffee table. "This one is yours, Liara. There's Thessian honey in the beaker there—" she indicated a small bright-orange glass beaker—"and milk in the pitcher. No cream; nothing in the markets today."

Liara smiled, and Shepard thought she seemed the most infinitesimal bit more at ease. Shepard did have that way with people – either you trusted her immediately, or you were scared out of your wits. Sometimes both. Liara let several drips of the honey fall into the dark brown liquid in her mug, then poured a small amount of milk in, as well.

"That's alright, Shepard. The fact that you managed to procure Thessian honey is quite frankly amazing all on its own. Thank you; you're very kind." Shepard smiled in return, then settled back in the corner. Garrus slipped an arm around her shoulders, and Liara inched forward on the cushion, diminishing the space between herself and the couple.

"So what was it you wanted to talk about, Liara?" Garrus began. "You said you had some information for us?" He looked curious, avian eyes piercing even when friendly.

"Yes, I do," Liara replied, stirring her tea. "I think you may find this interesting." She took a slow, deep breath, and stared into her mug.

* * *

It was now, or never. Speak now, or forever hold your peace, Liara T'Soni …

Could she do this?

Did she want to?

Was she ready?

Yes … yes … no, probably not.

Well, two out of three wasn't bad.

She took a deep breath and looked at them each in turn.

"Shepard, Garrus … I couldn't help but overhear your conversation the other day about wanting a family." She took a sip of her tea; it was warm, sweet, and had just the slight edge of bitterness that good tea should have. It warmed her soul. Shepard nodded at her words; Garrus turned his head to the right several millimetres.

"I may be able to help you."

Silence for a second. Then Shepard spoke.

"Liara, if you heard our conversation, then you heard that we don't think there's a way to do that right now. I appreciate your thinking about us, especially when there are surely a thousand other problems you could be working on… but what were you thinking of? Do you know someone we don't?"

She sounded guarded. Liara couldn't blame her. To get your hopes up like that, only to have them dashed, would be crushing.

"No," Liara said, "I don't. But there is a way I can personally help, if you are interested."

This time Garrus replied. "And what is this way?"

She looked straight into his eyes for a second, then into Shepard's. She held the woman's gaze, choosing her words very carefully.

"It is not widely known, nor widely practiced, but asari can act as… I believe the closest term in your languages would be 'surrogates'."

* * *

Shepard blinked, still holding Liara's gaze. She decided to double-check.

"A surrogate? You mean …" Her heart skipped a beat.

Garrus finished her sentence. "You mean you could carry our child?"

Liara dropped Shepard's gaze and looked at Garrus, instead. Shepard was infinitely grateful: her heart was now starting to race, and she felt Garrus' grip on her shoulder tighten reassuringly.

"Yes," the asari replied. "It is not something which is done very often, but it is a possibility. It is a tradition dating back generations among the asari."

"But," Shepard began, "how? How can you do that? Do you just…" She felt herself slowly slipping into shock, utterly at a loss for words. The great Commander Shepard, capable of defusing an angry krogan, had lost her tongue to talk of children.

She could have a child. A real child. Her child. His child. _Their _child.

She reminded herself to breathe.

* * *

Liara spoke again. "It is not easy. The simplest way to explain it would be that I would become a bridge between the two of you, and I would carry the product of that mental bridging to term."

Garrus' mandibles flicked. "It sounds clinical."

Liara shook her head. "It is anything but. This is a practice which is ancient and respected among my people. To be a surrogate is an incredible responsibility and a great honour."

Shepard picked her mug up from the table, stared at it, and set it down again. Garrus could see that her hands were trembling almost imperceptibly.

"And the child…" she started.

"Would be an asari, yes," Liara finished. "But it would in no way be my child—" Garrus heard Liara's breath catch, though she continued. "And since you are likely to live at least as long as Miss Lawson, Shepard, and turians are not incredibly short-lived, you would have the opportunity to raise this child."

Shepard shook her head, looking at her hands. "How would it not be your child?" Garrus could see Liara's heart rate spike in his visor.

"It…" She took a breath and started again. "The process uses your nervous systems to alter the basic DNA which I provide. The child will be an asari, but will share both of your characteristics. It is not the same as the traditional method of asari reproduction, just as it is not the same as the traditional method of either human or turian reproduction."

Shepard was silent. Garrus could tell that that wasn't quite the entirety of what Shepard had asked, though he was just as sure that Liara had known that. So many layers, he thought. So many layers.

"Why do you offer us this, Liara?" He asked gently, still with his hand on Shepard's shoulder. "Do you want to do this?"

* * *

Snipers. They always knew where to shoot, Liara thought.

* * *

Liara met his gaze and held it.

"You are my friends. This is something I can do for you which no one else can. It is my choice to offer it, which I do freely: it would bring me great joy as your friend to see the Shepard and Vakarian family grow." She put her mug on the table. "Yes, I want to do this, if you want to. The choice is yours."

Her voice was even; her heart rate, slightly increased. She was serious, and she wasn't lying. Garrus was impressed, and touched. He had of course known of Liara's attraction to Shepard. The clear fact that Liara was prepared to give something so intimate to them was confusing, on the one hand, and very telling on the other.

"Liara…" Shepard spoke, staring at the couch cushion, feeling light-headed. "Thank you for telling us this. I—we need to think about it."

Liara nodded. "Of course. I would have been surprised if you had decided so soon." She smiled, leaned forward, and took Shepard's hand in her own. Shepard looked up. "Regardless of what you and Garrus choose—" she glanced at him, and he nodded back— "I am, and always will be, your friend. I am here for you."

Liara let go, straightened, and took her mug as she stood.

"Thank you for the tea, Shepard, and thank you both for listening. May the Goddess give you peace and wisdom. You know where to find me."

Liara turned, and Garrus watched her walk out, waiting until the door closed before turning to Shepard and slipping both arms around her, pulling his speechless, dazed mate against his chest.

* * *

Liara managed to get into the elevator and hit the button for the crew deck before letting out the shaky breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

Well.

She had no idea what to make of that conversation.


	9. Silence

The next week was quiet. Liara spent much of the following six days repairing the damaged systems in her office, and catching up on the operations of her network. She put in calls to old friends, who were scattered across the galaxy again. She read, and meditated. She spent time with her friends on board the Normandy, frequently having dinner in the mess hall with whoever was there. It was a small price to pay to feel like she was truly part of the crew.

Shepard was always there at dinner. She didn't always make it to lunch, but unless something truly urgent had come up, she always came down to dinner. Some nights, she even cooked for those who were there. She usually ran on the day shifts – Liara privately suspected she slept very little, even now, after the war – and since the Normandy ran more-or-less on a skeleton crew, there were rarely more than eight mouths to feed at once. Shepard was no gourmet chef, but she could do standard fare. When pressed as to where she'd learned, she replied that growing up on ships taught you to do wonders with standard rations – and she'd simply worked it out from there.

It seemed to calm Shepard in ways that holding a gun never did, to Liara's eyes. When Shepard sat down to eat with her crew, laugh with them, share stories and memories with them, she seemed human instead of heroic. On the battlefield, she was an angel of death: disappearing under her tactical cloak, the leader of the enemy squad was taken down seconds later by a clean, severe headshot, before a hail of gunfire from her heavily-modded SMG cut down the others as she flickered back into existence, having neatly outflanked them. In the mess hall, in her fatigues, even with the corded muscles of her arms clearly defined, she looked _softer_. She smiled, her hair fell around her face; her laugh was light and cheerful.

It made Liara smile. Surely, she thought, it would be soon that Shepard and Garrus would tell her that all was well, and they could talk about the process again. Shepard looked calm and peaceful. Surely everything was going alright. She even looked like she was sleeping a bit better. But then, the coffee was getting better, too.

Liara hoped Shepard would talk to her soon.

* * *

Shepard had always been impressed with Liara's ability to seem calm and collected. Ever since her time on Illium, the distraught, panicked archaeologist had morphed into the focused and engaged Shadow Broker. Shepard knew it was rare to see Liara panic these days: she suspected it was the added responsibility, plus the side effects of having helped save the galaxy three times. Only now that she thought about it, Liara could have helped save the galaxy many more times than that, and it was likely that Shepard would never know. That unsettled Shepard very slightly, but not more than the knowledge that Garrus was probably wanted by about every merc group in the galaxy, or that Tali could probably steal the ship out from under her feet and she'd never know until she tried to give EDI an order. Though, she supposed, it was just as likely for Joker to convince Tali and EDI to pull that particular wool over her eyes, and she'd find it hilarious after she recovered from the heart attack.

So, by all accounts, her crew was dangerous and always had been.

But Liara …

She'd never really understood the young asari. She was eager to help and brimming with knowledge, plus she was enthusiastic and a lightning-quick learner. She was just as deadly in battle as she was connected to her evanescent network of agents in her office. She was kind, and caring, and sensitive.

And she was more than a bit naïve.

So Shepard had little doubt that Liara, just like the rest of the crew, could not see or sense her inner turmoil as she wrestled with the new angle Liara had presented as a potential solution to her 'issue'. That didn't stop Shepard from feeling like every fleeting eye contact glance or friendly comment from the asari was tailor-made to slice into her heart and lodge there, leaving Shepard with the feeling that Liara was simply omnipresent. She'd say hello on the CIC as Shepard was standing at her console before heading down to the crew deck; she'd pass her in the hall as Shepard went to the lab. Crew members seemed to mention Liara even more than usual: perhaps she'd solved a communications problem, or perhaps they'd just spoken last night over dinner.

It was driving Shepard insane.

She loved Liara: the asari was like the sister she'd never had. They were something like eight decades apart in chronological age, but somewhere around the same mental age … Shepard thought.

Sometimes, Shepard couldn't help but think that Liara was just pretending to be a hundred years old, and she was actually a thousand or something ridiculous like that. That infinite wisdom and generosity – Shepard couldn't quite process it. Why would you do something like that, with nothing in return? How could you bear a child that wouldn't be yours? How could you _live _with that?

Either Liara was infinitely wiser and kinder than Shepard…

…Or Liara wanted Shepard's child.

Shepard had barely slept since their conversation. Garrus had tried to relax her, tried to get her to sleep, but she always ended up lying at his side for several hours, tossing and turning, trying not to think, before giving up and getting some work done.

She was running out of work to do, and she was reaching the end of her extensive limits when it came to sleep deprivation.

She was sitting at the mess hall table with her head in her hands, deep in the graveyard shift with no one else around, when she felt a familiar three-fingered hand with long, gloved talons wrap over her left shoulder.

"Shepard. Need me for something?"


	10. Morning

Shepard stared at the faint streaks of light shooting past her skylight, one of the few sources of light at this hour in her cabin. The fish tank, as always, glowed its light blue, and her alarm clock reflected the light back across the room, as well as emitting its own gentle glow. Usually she shuttered the fish tank and dimmed her clock to sleep, but, well, she wasn't getting any sleeping done.

Yes. She did need him for something.

He'd made her tea; made himself something that she thought smelled sort of like baked bread. He'd sat across from her, drank while she did, watched her, waited.

She'd danced around the issue for a bit, then just sat in silence. He'd reached across the table and held her hand, tracing her fingers with his talons.

She hadn't really said anything, and he knew it. But he'd stayed. And when they'd both finished their drinks, he'd taken her cup and his, washed them, and put them away, then returned and offered her his hand. She'd taken it, and they'd gone up to her cabin.

He had touched her in that way that asked silently if she wanted to make love, running his hands along her shoulders, nuzzling the side of her head gently, slipping his arm around her waist as they left the elevator. She'd reciprocated the affection, tracing his mandibles, resting her head on his chest, turning the one-armed hold into a full hug… and then she'd smiled wanly and shook her head gently. He'd leaned forward, and she'd raised herself on her tiptoes to meet his forehead with her own.

They'd slipped into bed, and he'd wrapped his arms around her, holding her gently against him. She was comforted by his warmth, and she was fairly certain she'd slept for a while before waking to stare at the universe passing by outside her window.

He was still there, warm and solid and fast asleep. They were both wrapped in thin blankets, his body heat more than enough to keep the both of them warm on most nights. It wasn't like space ever got above absolute zero, anyway. She smiled at her own terrible spacer-kid joke.

He shifted slightly in his sleep, his arm nestling close against her waist. Shepard closed her eyes, not wanting morning to come. She knew that at some point, she would have to confront this head-on. She had no idea who to talk to, or even what to think. She'd talk to her mother eventually, but this confusion over motivations and needs and wants … She couldn't decide whether she was being ridiculously paranoid, or completely reasonable. In her line of work in the past few years, paranoia wasn't necessarily unreasonable … but who would understand? Who would know?

She sighed softly, opening her eyes, and Garrus shifted again, rubbing his mandible against her shoulder.

She decided that she could ignore this whole thing for a couple more hours, and turned in towards her mate, slipping in even closer to him, watching his oddly serene avian face as he slept.

Shepard closed her eyes again, listened to the lack of synchronicity in their breathing, and fell into a shallow sleep.

* * *

Water. He could hear water. What?

He blinked slowly, opening his eyes to a still-dimmed cabin and smudged streaks of light flying past the skylight over his head. He blinked again, slightly disoriented before he realized he was in Shepard's cabin, and she was in the shower.

He still hadn't gotten used to that damn skylight. Turian ships didn't have skylights. He didn't know any ships that did. Humans. … Cerberus.

He stretched; sat up, twisted at the waist one way then the other, rolled his head around the edge of his carapace, rolled his shoulders. Snap, crackle, pop.

Flowing water. It had always struck him as a bit out-of-place on a ship. Turians tended to conserve water on their short-haul ships, and used a sonic shower instead. Long-haul ships had had both, but most active turians had preferred the sonic shower: it was shorter, meant you didn't have to dry off, and arguably did a better job of scrubbing all the dirt off from a mission.

Garrus hadn't really cared for showers before meeting Shepard. He was fine with them – the Normandy didn't have a sonic shower: human hair was seriously messed up by current sonic-abrasion technology, not to mention the delicacy that would be needed with their ridiculously-soft skin, so humans basically stuck with showering and dealt with the extra water reserves needed on their ships – but he hadn't really thought twice about taking a water shower rather than a sonic shower.

Until Shepard.

He smiled, reliving a handful of his favourite shower memories, and he considered joining her. He got out of bed, stretched his arms over his head to work out a couple last kinks, and decided against it. She'd been pretty firm last night, and he knew when she wasn't in the mood. That was alright.

He made the bed while he waited for her to finish. Creases as sharp as his talons, just the way she liked it. He knew that if it wasn't absolutely perfect, she'd probably do it again herself. Garrus chuckled to himself, wondering if there were any other perfectly-made king-size beds in the Alliance military. He doubted it. He wondered if this was Shepard's way of 'apologizing' for having such a comfortable bed. He'd slept in Alliance standard beds. They weren't comfy.

Bed made, he sat on the couch and gazed at her fish.

A child?

He'd thought about this near constantly for the past week. Of course he wanted a child. Part of him still heard his father's admonitions about finding him a good match within the Hierarchy – half-joking, granted, as no turian necessarily had to marry … but there was a certain expectation that, as a good turian, you did your part to continue your family line.

He rubbed his mandible, stretching it out. Spirits. The women his father had suggested … well, they ranged from "hell no" to "well, you're a wonderful woman, but …" and it had never gotten much better. Given that Garrus had never understood what he'd wanted in a relationship, he supposed it wasn't really fair to knock his dad so hard for not getting it right either, but still. Some of his father's attempts had been laughable.

Garrus had more or less come to terms with the slim chances of his ever being a father about the time he'd opened the last crate of thermal clips while holed up during that last stand on Omega. Before that, he'd held out some hope: working at C-Sec, you never knew when you might come across some gorgeous young turian with a particularly-lovely supportive waist; after saving the galaxy with Shepard, he'd gone back to the Citadel with a spring in his step and some extra confidence while he flirted at the bar …

And then Shepard had died, and he'd spent the following two months completely numb, realizing for the first time that she had, quite obviously, been the right one all along. How he'd hated himself in those days. He'd gone to Omega to forget. Or to dream. Or something. He didn't think he'd fully processed Omega yet. He knew he would someday.

If there was one thing he'd learned from Shepard, it was …

Well, actually, it was that everyone in the galaxy was likely a sane and rational person who was incredibly scared of something, and that fear was what was actually causing their behaviour.

But the other thing he'd learned from Shepard was that not everything makes sense the first go round.

He'd figure out Omega later.

That night, in his makeshift fortress, on the eve of destruction, he'd given up his dreams of children. Given up the promise of tiny blue eyes and gentle curved mandibles. The daydream of teaching his child to shoot; holding their small hands in his long fingers, showing them the art of the sniper rifle. Telling his children about his days with the great Commander Shepard, the saviour of the galaxy. He'd put a dream into each shot; cursed whatever powers there were with each merc felled for each distant hope that shattered along with their skulls.

And then she'd walked back into his life, he'd spent several weeks entirely numb again – no thanks to the painkillers – and they'd started this incredible whirlwind of danger and action and love. And then she'd blown up a mass relay. Or, well, been unable to stop the blowing-up of a mass relay. And she'd been torn from him for six months – six months in which he'd been ridiculously busy.

Of course, then the war happened. Or culminated.

And now …

Now they could have a child.

It would not be turian. It would not be human. There would be no tiny mandibles and talons; no soft curls or plump wrists. It would be asari: blue, eternal … alien.

Something in Garrus' heart clenched, and he dropped his head to his chest. He just didn't know. This would have been a hard enough decision if the offer hadn't come from Liara. But the archaeologist was both their friend, and had as much as admitted she had loved Shepard. How could he, in good conscience, being a fiercely protective mate who adored his partner and wanted all the best for her …

How did that sentence finish?

What was the best for Shepard? To say yes, and let there be a child of their love, a child they could raise, a child they could impart wisdom and knowledge to? To say no, and hold out hope for another solution – a potentially futile dream?

To let a third person come between them? Would that affect their relationship – or their friendship with Liara? What about with the rest of the crew? What did Liara want?

Garrus groaned gently. He didn't know. He so badly wanted to talk with Shepard. There were so many angles to this conversation that needed to be covered: the logistics, the practicality, the politics, the intimacy, the friendships, the crew dynamics, the pros, the cons, their personal desires, their dreams, their needs, their wants …

Their future.

The water stopped.

Silence.

Shepard stepped out, towel wrapped around her, using another smaller towel to rub at her chin-length hair. She walked across the room, down the stairs, handed him a brush, pulled the towel from her hair, and sat on his knees.

He began to run the brush through her hair, using his talons to detangle any particularly stubborn knots. He loved doing this.

She began to talk.


	11. Maybe

"What do you think, Garrus?" Shepard said, idly playing with the hem of the towel sitting just above her knee.

"I think that you've been agonizing over this all week, Shepard, but you don't want to tell anyone." He ran his talons through her hair, scratching her scalp lightly. "We can say no, you know. Liara wouldn't be offended."

"That's just it, I…" She sighed heavily. "Garrus, I don't see any other way we could possibly have a child of our own."

"What about adoption?" He finished brushing her hair, laid the brush aside, and settled his arms around her waist.

"I'd always be up for adoption, you know that. But… This is a chance for us to have a child that comes from _us_." She tilted her head down and took his hands in hers. "Like I said, I can't see that happening any other way."

"I'm not getting the feeling that you're very happy about that." He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.

"Well… no. I'd like to…" She fell silent.

"You'd like to?"

"I'd…" She shook a little bit, the slightest convulsion: a silenced sob.

He held her the tiniest bit tighter and waited.

Shepard took a deep breath, then let it out. "You know I've never been the most romantic of people. I never really thought I'd have kids. My life growing up wasn't the most conducive to thoughts of a settled, planned-out life including parenthood." Another deep breath. "And then I met you, and… and all that changed. Garrus, if there was even the faintest chance that I could carry your child, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

He lowered his forehead to the back of her neck, nuzzling her soft skin gently. "Shepard…" It was almost a whisper.

"Garrus, _I'd _like to have our child. And… I'm still not quite ready to think that without trembling. Partially because I never thought I'd think that, and partially because…" Her breath hitched. "Partially because I can't."

He fluttered his mandibles against the back of her neck; the light touch made her shiver. "So, no, then? I'm okay with that, if you don't want to go ahead with this. It's just another option."

"I didn't say that. Hold on. I'm… this is really hard." Another deep breath. "Like I said before, this might be our only option to have a child that comes from us, in whatever way that works. And… that's really, really tempting. I think it's an incredible offer. I'm still stunned that Liara would… that…"

"That she'd be able to do it, considering her… history with you?" He knew she probably wouldn't have been able to say it. He'd couched it in the gentlest terms of which he could conceive. And still she flinched, oh-so-slightly.

"Yes. She… Garrus, how can I know she's telling the truth? How can I know that she doesn't just want to have my child – spend the next nine hundred years of her life living a fantasy where I loved her? I mean, oh—ugh, that's so _mean_. No. Liara's a kind soul. She's like my sister. She's the closest thing to a little sister I've ever had. She's awkward and funny and smart…" She slipped off his knees and sat beside him on the couch, head down.

Garrus leaned forward slightly to catch her eye. "Shepard, it sounds like either you believe and trust her, and have therefore already made your decision, or you don't, and you've still made your decision."

She laughed slightly. "That sounds awfully familiar. But I'm still…"

"Something else is bothering you?"

She was quiet for a moment. "Do _you_ trust Liara? Do you believe she isn't doing this for her own gain?"

"I believe that she honestly wants to do this for_ us_; I also believe she is entirely aware of her feelings for you, and how that could affect this. She's very smart: she is also a caring and compassionate person." He slipped his fingers in between Shepard's. "I believe that we can trust her. I don't think she would have offered us this chance if she didn't think she could handle the emotional consequences."

Shepard stayed silent.

"Shepard, do _you _trust Liara? Forget the issue of the child for a moment."

His mate closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "…Yes. She put her own life on the line to try to get me back; even when she was still a frightened young archaeologist, she went with me to Noveria; she stormed the base of the most powerful information broker in the galaxy to save someone she cared about. She's never let me down. She's never let us down. She's never been anything but friendly, and she's never overstepped the boundaries of our friendship – before _or _after I turned her advances down years ago. I think she's smart enough that she could make this about herself without us knowing, but—" she cut him off with a look as he opened his mouth to speak—"but I don't think she'd ever deceive you or me."

Garrus nodded. "I agree with you. Do you think we should go ahead with this, then?"

Shepard shook her head. "I don't know. Are we ready to start a family? We're both still extremely busy with post-war cleanup and reorganization. There's no saying when that will settle down, or, when it does, what we'll end up doing – where we'll be."

"Yes, that's true," he acquiesced. "On the flip side, we _do _know we'll be staying with the Normandy for the next several months, at least, and if Liara is going to carry our child, we should all be in the same place. In that way, we're relatively stable. Nonetheless, I do understand your concerns about stability, and I agree. Did you want to consider settling on a planet?"

"Not necessarily," Shepard responded. "I grew up on Alliance ships; it can be done quite well. On the Normandy, though, it's pretty cramped. And I do love my Normandy. I'm not sure I'd want to trade it in just yet."

"But if we start a family…"

"Exactly," she said. "A small ship, plus no set schedule – if I were to become pregnant, the Alliance might ground me, or shift me to a larger ship … and they would almost certainly relieve me of command."

"You wouldn't be pregnant, though," he countered.

"I'm sure as hell going to spend as much time with our unborn child as possible, though, so I may as well be. And we'll take care of the child once she's born. It wouldn't be fair to Liara otherwise, I think."

"That's fair, I suppose." He was quiet for a moment. "You're right; our current situation does not exactly lend itself well to starting a family. Should we ask Liara to wait? Or simply refuse?"

"I don't know," Shepard replied. "But I think we should talk to her again. Whenever we're going to go ahead with this, we need to know more of the details."

"Agreed." He flared his mandibles out in a smile. "Now, I believe you've been wearing that towel for far too long. Perhaps you need help getting dressed?" He raised his hands and made to touch her clavicle; she smacked at his hands playfully, smiling fully for the first time in days. The action made the towel slip, and she snatched it back up.

"I'm not so sure you're interested in getting me dressed, Garrus Vakarian." She grinned at him widely.

"Perhaps not," he said, rumbling softly. "But I'm not so sure you're interested in getting dressed, either."

They laughed and reached for each other. Talking could happen later.


	12. Later

/Normandy SR-2 Internal Network: access ID SH-00003  
/Time: 2186/09/20 05:14:23  
/From: ShepardCommander  
/To: ThanixMan, IndianaTSoni  
/Subject: re: re: coffee?  
/Body:

Coffee and a chat?

S

-  
This message is personal correspondence from the desk of Systems Alliance Lieutenant Commander Shepard, 5923-AC-2826 N7, Special Tactics and Reconnaissance. Any information contained in this message should be considered classified under both Alliance and Council laws, and any breach of confidentiality can and will be addressed in an appropriate fashion.

/End

* * *

/Normandy SR-2 Internal Network: access ID LT-00247  
/Time: 2186/09/20 08:18:58  
/From: IndianaTSoni  
/To: ShepardCommander, ThanixMan  
/Subject: re: re: coffee?  
/Body:

My dataset should be done collating around 1700; I'll need about an hour to put the summary together … so maybe we could do dinner?

Liara

-  
This message may contain classified or otherwise protected information. Unauthorized release of any information contained in this message may result in appropriate actions being taken under the authority of Dr. Liara T'Soni, associate professor of Prothean Studies at the University of Thessia and information analyst.

/End

* * *

/Normandy SR-2 Internal Network: access ID GV-00152  
/Time: 2186/09/20 09:14:28  
/From: ThanixMan  
/To: ShepardCommander, IndianaTSoni  
/Subject: re: re: coffee?  
/Body:

I know Shepard's planning on taking the shuttle down to the moon we're headed towards – what time was that again?

Garrus

Also – that damn pilot of yours is at it again, Shepard. "ThanixMan"? It's like he thinks my life is guns.

PPS – what the hell were you doing up at five in the morning?

-  
This message may contain confidential information classified by order of the Turian Hierarchy. Any individual or group found revealing classified Hierarchy information can and will be persecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

/End

* * *

/Normandy SR-2 Internal Network: access ID LT-00247  
/Time: 2186/09/20 9:45:17  
/From: IndianaTSoni  
/To: ShepardCommander, ThanixMan  
/Subject: re: re: coffee?  
/Body:

But your life _is_ guns, Garrus.

Liara

-  
This message may contain classified or otherwise protected information. Unauthorized release of any information contained in this message may result in appropriate actions being taken under the authority of Dr. Liara T'Soni, associate professor of Prothean Studies at the University of Thessia and information analyst.

/End

* * *

/Normandy SR-2 Internal Network: access ID GV-00152  
/Time: 2186/09/20 10:02:13  
/From: ThanixMan  
/To: ShepardCommander, IndianaTSoni  
/Subject: re: re: coffee?  
/Body:

Sure, and you wear a fedora.

Garrus

-  
This message may contain confidential information classified by order of the Turian Hierarchy. Any individual or group found revealing classified Hierarchy information can and will be persecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

/End

* * *

/Normandy SR-2 Internal Network: access ID LT-00247  
/Time: 2186/09/20 10:10:38  
/From: IndianaTSoni  
/To: ShepardCommander, ThanixMan  
/Subject: re: re: coffee?  
/Body:

Kasumi found me an excellent one. It even fits my crest.

Liara

-  
This message may contain classified or otherwise protected information. Unauthorized release of any information contained in this message may result in appropriate actions being taken under the authority of Dr. Liara T'Soni, associate professor of Prothean Studies at the University of Thessia and information analyst.

/End

* * *

/Normandy SR-2 Internal Network: access ID SH-00003  
/Time: 2186/09/20 11:28:44  
/From: ShepardCommander  
/To: ThanixMan, IndianaTSoni  
/Subject: re: re: coffee?  
/Body:

I was up at 5 because Hackett called. The man has no sense of time. You were fast asleep. And no, I didn't go back to bed. That's like asking a thresher maw to stop being ferocious.

Joker didn't do anything this time … I quite like our Thanix Cannon … and Liara, I know for a fact you're afraid of snakes.

I'm taking the shuttle out in an hour, Garrus – I'll be back before 1500 unless something goes horribly wrong. (So expect me back at 1700.)

Supper sounds great. 1830 in the lounge? More private than the mess hall, less intimate than my quarters. Unless we want to dine while basking in the glory of our main gun. Or half the secrets of the galaxy.

S

-  
This message is personal correspondence from the desk of Systems Alliance Lieutenant Commander Shepard, 5923-AC-2826 N7, Special Tactics and Reconnaissance. Any information contained in this message should be considered classified under both Alliance and Council laws, and any breach of confidentiality can and will be addressed in an appropriate fashion.

/End

* * *

/Normandy SR-2 Internal Network: access ID LT-00247  
/Time: 2186/09/20 11:35:38  
/From: IndianaTSoni  
/To: ShepardCommander, ThanixMan  
/Subject: re: re: coffee?  
/Body:

How did you— never mind, I don't want to know. And if I did I could just find out.

1830 in the lounge is perfect.

Liara

-  
This message may contain classified or otherwise protected information. Unauthorized release of any information contained in this message may result in appropriate actions being taken under the authority of Dr. Liara T'Soni, associate professor of Prothean Studies at the University of Thessia and information analyst.

/End

* * *

/Normandy SR-2 Internal Network: access ID GV-00152  
/Time: 2186/09/20 11:45:13  
/From: ThanixMan  
/To: ShepardCommander, IndianaTSoni  
/Subject: re: re: coffee?  
/Body:

You're a cruel bitch, Shepard. A cruel, cruel bitch. But I can't deny that our main gun is sexy as hell.

(Can I come with you to the moon?)

Garrus

-  
This message may contain confidential information classified by order of the Turian Hierarchy. Any individual or group found revealing classified Hierarchy information can and will be persecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

/End

* * *

/Normandy SR-2 Internal Network: access ID LT-00247  
/Time: 2186/09/20 11:57:31  
/From: IndianaTSoni  
/To: ShepardCommander, ThanixMan  
/Subject: re: re: coffee?  
/Body:

Get a _room_, you two.

Liara

-  
This message may contain classified or otherwise protected information. Unauthorized release of any information contained in this message may result in appropriate actions being taken under the authority of Dr. Liara T'Soni, associate professor of Prothean Studies at the University of Thessia and information analyst.

/End

* * *

/Normandy SR-2 Internal Network: access ID SH-00003  
/Time: 2186/09/20 12:10:23  
/From: ShepardCommander  
/To: ThanixMan, IndianaTSoni  
/Subject: re: re: coffee?  
/Body:

I wholeheartedly agree with you, Garrus. The way that thing fires, it's just … wow.

(I don't think you need to: I am literally landing, picking up a crate, and taking off again. I'm even debating taking my gun.)

S

-  
This message is personal correspondence from the desk of Systems Alliance Lieutenant Commander Shepard, 5923-AC-2826 N7, Special Tactics and Reconnaissance. Any information contained in this message should be considered classified under both Alliance and Council laws, and any breach of confidentiality can and will be addressed in an appropriate fashion.

/End

* * *

/Normandy SR-2 Internal Network: access ID SH-00003  
/Time: 2186/09/20 17:25:49  
/From: ShepardCommander  
/To: ThanixMan, IndianaTSoni  
/Subject: re: re: coffee?  
/Body:

Fucking hell. I definitely could have used backup on that. Fuck this galaxy.

S

-  
This message is personal correspondence from the desk of Systems Alliance Lieutenant Commander Shepard, 5923-AC-2826 N7, Special Tactics and Reconnaissance. Any information contained in this message should be considered classified under both Alliance and Council laws, and any breach of confidentiality can and will be addressed in an appropriate fashion.

/End

* * *

/Normandy SR-2 Internal Network: access ID LT-00247  
/Time: 2186/09/20 17:45:31  
/From: IndianaTSoni  
/To: ShepardCommander, ThanixMan  
/Subject: re: re: coffee?  
/Body:

I will take that as an invitation to bring the strongest Thessian alcohol I have in my cabinet.

Liara

-  
This message may contain classified or otherwise protected information. Unauthorized release of any information contained in this message may result in appropriate actions being taken under the authority of Dr. Liara T'Soni, associate professor of Prothean Studies at the University of Thessia and information analyst.

/End

* * *

/Normandy SR-2 Internal Network: access ID SH-00003  
/Time: 2186/09/20 17:50:13  
/From: ShepardCommander  
/To: ThanixMan, IndianaTSoni  
/Subject: re: re: coffee?  
/Body:

You're the best friend ever, Liara.

S

-  
This message is personal correspondence from the desk of Systems Alliance Lieutenant Commander Shepard, 5923-AC-2826 N7, Special Tactics and Reconnaissance. Any information contained in this message should be considered classified under both Alliance and Council laws, and any breach of confidentiality can and will be addressed in an appropriate fashion.

/End


	13. Drink

Shepard and Garrus were already in the lounge by the time Liara put the final touches on her report – and by the sounds of it, she wasn't the only one breaking out the hard stuff.

"So then, so then, get this, _he pulls out a fucking Crusader. _One of the most accurate shotguns in the galaxy. And he's waving it around, all 'Commander Shepard, you may have taken out the Reapers _but you can't catch me_' and I'm like _fuck this_, whip my Widow off my back and _bam _right in the head."

"Uh huh."

"But of course he'd just sent a decoy out, clever mech, clever boy, so then of course he nailed me with the Crusader from two stories up. Shields went down faster than Harbinger's main beam. I think the battery's fried. So I bolted, and of course he's got high ground so I can't very well snipe him, so I have to find the way _up this rickety burnt-out building_ while he's trying to _kill_ me, and …"

"And the crate?" Liara slid into the empty seat at the erstwhile poker table (Ashley had found a lovely hard-shell cover for it, so they could use it as a private dining table – she always did have an eye for good furniture, though Liara privately suspected that Kasumi had more to do with it than Ashley ever let on, since it was clearly quite expensive), setting her bottle of liqueur down on the table in front of her as she smoothly inserted herself into the conversation. "What was in it, anyway?"

Garrus and Shepard stared blankly at her. Garrus, to her left, had an open bottle near him which was about a third empty – his favourite drink from Palaven, a dark ale-style drink if Liara remembered correctly. Shepard, on the other side of the table from Liara, had two empty bottles beside her and was working on a third: Shepard's drinks usually came in bottles with no labels, and Liara had never been able to get one from her to find out what it was. Strong, clearly.

"The crate," she repeated. "Weren't you going down to get a crate?"

"Oh!" Shepard exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. "The crate! Right. I was just getting to that. So like I told Garrus, when I landed I had to go through this bloody obstacle course shit, which was when I knew something was up, but hey, the tipoff on these goods was pretty obscure, so I wasn't too surprised that someone had gotten there first – but this was just nuts, like fire pits and ledges to jump across – I never have to jump much, now that I think about it – and then when I get to the end, there's the crate, and this guy who pulls the gun on me, like I was saying when you walked in. So I'm chasing him up this tower-y thing at the end, and suddenly I call out 'what's in the crate that you don't want me to get?' and he says—" She paused, took a gulp from her drink, swallowed hard, shook her head, and continued. "'Only the best ryncol money could never buy, you Alliance swab!' So then, of course, I had to get my hands on it, because _damn_, good ryncol's hard to come by, the krogan don't export it much, it's fought over before it gets too far and so much of it gets broken that it's incredibly rare and expensive. You don't want _old _ryncol, you want the newest shit that no one else has because everybody's killing to get it. Old ryncol's shit. No one cares if you have bad ryncol so it gets old."

Garrus put his hand to his forehead. Liara felt like doing much the same. "Did you get it?" she asked.

"Of course I did. I hit that sucker's ass with a sabotage pulse which put his Crusader out of business, then nailed him between the eyes with my Widow, and promptly grabbed his omnitool off him before booking it back down to the main level. I pinged Cortez, used the bastard's omnitool to unlock the crate, popped it open to check that it was indeed bottles of ryncol, slammed it shut, recoded it with my own omnitool, and took off for the el-zee." Another swig from the bottle.

"Of course, the bastard wasn't alone, turns out it had been a rival clan of Wrex's back on Tuchanka that had made a bet with that old fucker that I couldn't win a crate of ryncol. 'Course Wrex knows me like a sister so he bet them five million creds and said send their worst. Bastard. I left one of them in a coma and sent his ass back on their shuttle, autopilot, with a message for Wrex. And one bottle of ryncol. Bloody painful fight though, nearly ran out of clips, couldn't even use my tac cloak 'cause they'd still see the crate. Got knocked a few good ones. Krogan know their shotguns. Cortez showed up about five minutes after I'd sent the krogan shuttle off with the survivor, and we hightailed it back here."

"So you're drinking ryncol." Garrus rumbled, shaking his head slightly. "How can you even _do _that? It's hard on a _krogan_, for Spirits' sake."

Shepard laughed. "My first taste of the stuff was back when I was with the Reds. We ran ryncol – of course pretty much anything off Tuchanka was contraband, but ryncol ran top dollar in organized-crime circles – and one time one of the guys dared me to try it, 'cause I was a girl. I shrugged and took a shot. Don't remember much for the next day or so. They thought it was pretty funny. I was pretty sick for a couple days, but I got over it.

"After that I didn't touch it till I got into the Alliance. When you're a street kid, you start drinking pretty early to forget a lot of the shit that happens, so I was pretty tough when it came to alcohol. I went out drinking on shore leave one time with my mates and someone brought along a flask of ryncol. Obviously that meant we would all have to try it in our various states of inebriation. I ended up being last; about a third of us had passed out after a swig, and a couple were losing their evenings in the back alley – the remainder looked pretty ill but were on their feet. I drained the flask, coughed a couple times, gasped a bit, but was otherwise okay. I'm pretty sure it was watered down – wasn't nearly as strong as it should have been, and we used to water down the ryncol we ran in the Reds so that our buyers didn't die – and then we'd sell them more, see …" She drained the bottle in front of her.

"It's only been since Cerberus brought me back that I've started enjoying ryncol. Usually I use it as a mixer – it's not got much taste, just a strong punch. With the implants they gave me, most alcohol doesn't do a thing, so if I want a buzz at all I have to go for the really strong stuff. This stuff, though," and she raised the bottle, "is some of the finest shit I've ever tasted. I don't wonder two dozen krogan would bet five million creds for it."

Liara shook her head. "Are you going to stay upright for dinner?"

Shepard snorted. "Liara, I could _make _dinner. Watch this. I bet you I can snipe that bottle of hanar vodka over there." She pointed. "Yeah, that little lime green one. Garrus, where's my rifle? I need to prove a point." She started to get up, wavering only slightly.

Garrus put his hand on her forearm. "It's down in the armoury. You're not going anywhere. Enhanced metabolism or not, three bottles of ryncol would make anyone's aim slip, and besides, your Widow would tear a hole in the ship, and then where would we be?"

Shepard tilted her head. "Several hundred bottles of liquor out. I see your point. Another time. In the meanwhile, dinner! I whipped up some Thai while I was working on my first bottle. Want to help me get it out of the bar fridge, Li?"

Liara got up. "Sure. Thai sounds amazing. I've quite fallen in love with human cuisine."

Shepard wavered up out of her seat, then put her arm around Liara's shoulders as they moved across the lounge. "Liara, has anyone ever told you that your skin is the colour of the Vancouver sunrise in June after a rainstorm?"

Liara shook her head and looked at the ceiling. "No, Shepard."

Garrus put his head in his hands. "Spirits, Liara, if you can get her and the food across the room and back in one piece I'll drink the rest of the ryncol."


	14. Logistics

A/N: Sorry for the duplicate update, guys! Not sure what happened - I copy-pasted from my main document badly, I guess. Here's the real chapter 14!

* * *

Supper passed with many a rollicking story from Shepard, Garrus chiming in from time to time with his own tales of daring deeds. After all three had eaten their fill, they retired to the couches and watched the stars swing by. They were currently in orbit around the particularly picturesque planet upon which Shepard had landed earlier in the day, which was alas on the other side of the ship.

Shepard, true to her word, was stone-cold sober. All three were sipping at mugs of tea or coffee as they finished their conversation about the upcoming galactic memorial service planned to take place at the Citadel.

"I'm just concerned about representation, that's all," Garrus said. "It seems like nothing more than pandering to the public opinion that the krogan were nothing but footsoldiers. I at least think they ought to invite Aralakh Company. If it weren't for them, the rachni would have wiped us out. Again."

"I agree with you, Garrus," Liara replied, "but at the same time, there are still parts of the Reaper War that the general populace doesn't know about. Most of the covert, or semi-covert, operations in which the special-ops or higher-ranking krogan squads took part are extremely classified – the rachni, for instance, just as you mentioned. Most of the galaxy doesn't even know they aren't extinct. And, to tell you the truth, I think it's likely the queen would like it to stay that way."

"You could compromise," Shepard added. "They could simply invite Wrex to invite a select group of exemplary soldiers as a diplomatic envoy representing great contributions to the war. Classified ops are the Council's specialty. I've never seen better cover-ups. Well, that I've known of. I'm sure the STG covers are so airtight they don't even get a footnote in the history books."

"A fair point," Garrus conceded. "But enough politics. Shepard, I think we should probably talk about the more personal matters on the table."

Shepard nodded and set her mug on the coffee table at her knees. "Liara," she started. She took a deep breath and twined her fingers with Garrus' before continuing. "We've given serious thought to your offer, and we'd like to talk it over more with you before making any concrete plans. But … we think that we'd like to consider saying yes very strongly, if we can work out a plan."

Liara didn't say anything for a moment, simply looking down at her mug and breathing. Finally, she looked up at them both, smiling at one and then the other. "I'm honoured," she replied. "Let's talk."

* * *

"So walk me through the process one more time," Garrus said. "I'm still not sure I have it entirely straight."

"Of course," Liara said. "The melding to conceive a surrogate child is more complex. I will require time with each of you so that I may align my neural pathways with yours. The actual conception will be a threefold effort, but does not require any physical interaction – just as a regular conception meld does not necessarily require any form of intercourse."

"Would physical intercourse make it easier?" Garrus chimed in. Shepard's head flipped to look at him and he held his hands up innocently. "Honest biological question. Though … you know … she _is _blue. And I do like blue." Shepard elbowed him, but grinned.

Liara chuckled. "Generally speaking, yes, intercourse would help – the emotions run higher by default and it is easier to align ourselves with one another. However, if there were any tension, or if anyone was uncomfortable, it could actually make this process more difficult. That is perhaps something to discuss on its own, and perhaps something you two should discuss first."

"Agreed," chimed in Shepard, "though I'm not exactly anti-blue myself." She gave Liara a soft smile. "What about the logistical concerns? I don't particularly want to leave the Normandy, but she _is_ an Alliance ship and I am now under Alliance command again. I couldn't exactly just turn it into a nursery. At the same time, what do _you _want? Where would you be comfortable? Would you prefer to leave the ship, or stay?"

Liara pondered for a moment, cradling her long-empty mug. "I'm not entirely sure," she said. "I've never been pregnant before. While I can certainly see the benefits of being planetside during a pregnancy and subsequent care, the Normandy _is_ my home. Since the base at Hagalaz, well … is no more, I haven't really had a place to stay. My apartment on Illium is quite gone. I'm sure it wouldn't be a problem to find a place, but the people here on the Normandy are my family. I don't think I would mind staying here if possible, but I'm not sure what problems it might pose to the crew."

"You already have your own quarters," Shepard pointed out. "That's convenient. And we are arguably one of the fastest ships in the galaxy. Plus we have an incredibly well-trained medical professional."

"Yes, all very true," acquiesced Liara. "I guess my point really is that it's hard to say either way. I think the easiest route might be to stay here for now, and if I need to go planetside, we can figure that out then."

"Agreed," said Garrus. "That seems the most reasonable to me."

Shepard nodded. "I'll have to talk to the brass, but, well, since we are on the list of most popular people in the galaxy right now, they might actually appreciate having us out of the way on the ship instead of on a planet where we can be constantly mobbed by reporters wanting the juicy details on our little ménage-à-trois."

Liara shuddered. "I hadn't even thought of that. That's very true. I mean, I am the Shadow Broker, I could make most of them disappear, but … still."

Garrus chuckled. "Protecting our little one probably isn't going to be difficult, is it?"

Shepard rolled her eyes. "Don't say things like that, Garrus, they never end well."

Liara smiled. "The Reapers are gone. What could possibly go wrong?"

Shepard nodded. "True," she said. "But still. I'd prefer not to tempt fate."


	15. Tell

As soon as the door slid shut behind them, leaving them alone in the glow of the fish tank, Shepard whirled on Garrus, backing him up against the door. "What do you mean she's _blue_?"

"Spirits above—" Garrus put his hands up in front of his chest, warding her off. "Shepard, you knowI didn't mean it like that—"

"_No_, actually, I _don't _know how you meant it, Vakarian, so why don't you _tell_ me?" She got up in his face, somehow managing to be terrifying despite being at least a head shorter than him. He felt his insides shiver and he took a deep breath.

"All I meant was that if intercourse would make the process easier for us or for Liara, I wouldn't be opposed to the idea." He held a hand up to stop Shepard from continuing to ream him out. "No, Shepard, you don't even have to thinkabout me cheating on you. Honestly –" he reached forward and put his hands on her shoulders. "Our relationship—your _love _is far too important to me for that. All I'm saying is that _if _it meant having a child would be easier, I'd be open to talking about it."

Shepard seemed to shrink slightly. "But… you said it was because she was blue." She looked down at the floor, her shoulders sagging slightly. "I'm not blue."

"Oh, Shepard." He slipped his arms around her and pulled her close; she didn't respond, her arms hanging limply at her sides. "Shepard, before I fell in love with you, I would never have considered asking a human to be my mate. I've had sex with a couple asari – on shore leave while on military service, after a really tough assignment with C-Sec – they were alright. You know I've had turian partners. But, Shepard…" He ran his talons through her hair, laying her head on his chest.

"There's no one but you now. My comment about Liara was an attempt to bring some levity into a tense and difficult situation, and I'm sorry if I hurt you by it. Please… Please know that I will stay with you for the rest of my days, no exceptions. If you're not comfortable with physical intimacy becoming part of this process, then you heard Liara – it isn't necessary."

She mumbled something into his chest.

"Sorry, Shepard, didn't catch that."

She swallowed hard and spoke a little louder. "But I'm still not blue."

He couldn't help it; he laughed softly. "I'm sure we could change that, if that's what you're worried about. But really, don't worry: whether or not you're _blue_ is the least of my concerns. It was just supposed to be funny." He shrugged. "Guess I was wrong."

He heard her sniff softly, and he tilted her head up to gaze into her eyes. He gently wiped away a thin tear trail from her cheek with the back of a talon, and cupped her face in his hand. "Frankly, I'm a little surprised, Shepard. Don't take this as my saying you're overreacting, but I thought I was pretty careful to word that so you'd know it was a joke. Did I miss something? Is there some cultural taboo here that I don't know about?"

She actually smiled slightly, and he felt his heart leap in response. Maybe he hadn't entirely fucked this up. Good. "Well," she started, "it's just… oh man Garrus, I didn't… " Her breath hitched and her eyes widened a bit as he saw tears glisten in their corners.

"It's okay. Take your time. We don't have to talk about whatever this is now if you don't want to." He ran his other hand through her hair again and she closed her eyes for a second before speaking again.

"It's just that… _you're _blue."

Realization hit him like a Thanix blast to his gut. So _that's_ what it was. He was speechless for several heartbeats, his brain frantically trying to figure out a decent response to that which would primarily reassure his mate, but secondly not give her too much hope about joining his clan because _that _would require convincing his father, and…

"Shepard," he began, clearing his throat gently. "Shepard, I—well, yes, I suppose I _am_ blue." Levity? Blue was always his favourite colour—no, bad idea. "But… Spirits, Shepard, I didn't realize you'd thought about it that much." The ball was back in her court now. He prayed silently that he'd picked the right words.

She made some sort of noncommittal sniff that could have meant anything at all. She looked down, then sideways, then reached up and ran her own hand through her hair. He recognized this particular body language as human code for thinking and took a deep breath to wait for her response.

"Yeah," she finally said, "yeah, I have. I… we… we don't have to talk about it. I know… well… rebuilding the galaxy probably comes before talking to your father about my joining your clan, hey?" She glanced up at him with an attempt at a smile.

Garrus just blinked. She knew about turian bonding practices? Why would— because she was Commander Shepard, and anything worth doing was worth overdoing. Oh boy.

"Shepard, I… I didn't realize you knew about that sort of thing." Lame answer, Vakarian. Oi.

The other side of her mouth quirked up in a _real _half-smile. "Yeah. I looked it up a while ago, before we got sent out to mop up the last of the Reaper troops. I had an afternoon and an open extranet connection, so I… did some reading. But I know your father… well, he isn't a big fan of Spectres, so I kinda figured… it'd be an awkward conversation."

Spirits. They were both dancing around the topic. "I see.… Let's sit down, okay?" Shepard nodded, pulled away from him and went over to the bed, sitting down on the edge. He followed and sat across from her on the end of the couch.

"Okay." He took a deep breath. "Joining a clan is pretty complex, and I'm sure we'll talk about this again later, but on this specific subject— not every formal bonding between turian couples results in one of the partners joining the other's clan: it's perfectly acceptable for each to remain a part of their own, and in some cases is even seen as preferable since it creates a bridge between the clans rather than resulting in one clan losing a member."

Shepard leaned forward, elbows on her knees, chin in her hands. "I know. But it _does _usually occur if one of the partners is barefaced."

Garrus leaned back in surprise. "True, but there are very few barefaced turians out there, Shepard. And… well, the whole barefaced thing dates back to the Unification Wars. If you didn't wear clan markings, either you were intensely loyal to the Hierarchy over your clan, or you didn't want others to know what clan you were from. It doesn't really apply to client races or other species. I mean, you don't see volus walking around with clan markings, and asari partners don't usually join their mate's clan."

Shepard tilted her head and considered this, then returned to looking at him. "Yeah, that's true. But in human culture, even now, one partner typically joins the other's family, even if only legally. I'm not sure I'd feel right _not_ trying to join your clan. Or at least be accepted by them."

Garrus laughed softly. "Shepard, you saved everyone in the galaxy from the Reapers. You've got nothing to prove. I understand and respect your customs, and we can absolutely talk to the right people, see what we can do – but please don't feel as if you're somehow the lesser in our relationship if you're not part of my clan. It's really okay."

Shepard smiled a little. "Okay. I'd still like to explore the possibility, but I do feel better about it."

Garrus nodded. "Good to hear. Do you want to talk about anything else tonight?"

"No." She shook her head. "It's been a rough day, and I still have to give Hackett _some_thing about that damn pickup job. You're welcome to stick around if you want, but I'm going to be mighty boring for the next couple hours."

He chuckled. "Please. You're funniest when you're trying to write reports. How are you going to phrase this one? 'That bastard krogan leader who happens to be my friend set me up for a crate of really good booze which I drank in its entirety this evening'? That'll go over well."

She shot him a look. "Very funny, Vakarian."

"You know it's true."

"Yeah, yeah." She got up, shook her head again, and headed up the stairs.

"I think I'll stay over here and heckle."

"Whatever floats your boat, space dinosaur."

"I love you too."


	16. Girlfriend

A/N: Hi guys. Thank you all for reading my fics! You're all super awesome. My apologies for missing a couple weeks here and there – university, plus running a newspaper, plus a musical theatre production, plus wedding planning make life a bit busy (and also explains the shortness of the chapters). If I ever miss a week, please cut me some slack and trust that the next chapter will be up soon – the summary does say "_in theory_, updates Mondays". Much love for all of you who read (and those who review): it makes my day to know that people enjoy my work. I love writing this stuff and it makes me incredibly glad that people like reading it!

Without further ado …

* * *

Liara was staring blankly at her monitors when the intercom chimed.

"Liara?" It was Shepard.

"Yes, Shepard? Can I help you with something?"

"I was just wondering if you wanted a cup of tea."

"Ah – yes, that would be lovely, thank you." She wasn't getting any work done anyway. "When—"

The door to her quarters slid open, revealing a somewhat sheepish-looking Shepard holding two mugs.

"Oh. Hello, Commander."

"Hi, Liara. Can I come in?"

"Yes, of course." Shepard stepped forward and the doors slid shut behind her. The Commander held out a mug, which Liara took.

Shepard leaned back against the wall beside her door, looking alternately between the floor, her mug, and Liara's wall of monitors. Liara gave her a minute, waiting to see if she would speak, but eventually accepted that Shepard wasn't about to say anything at all, so she did first.

"Was there something you wanted to talk to me about, Shepard?"

The Commander shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Yeah. I figured we should probably talk about … us. And … you know." She shook her head and muttered something under her breath.

"I didn't quite catch that, Shepard."

Shepard looked up, embarrassed. "I was just cursing myself out for being so damn awkward."

Liara smiled. "I know _that_ feeling."

Shepard smiled back. "It's odd, you know? I can talk down a homicidal maniac, convince politicians to give me their fleets, but I can't talk about kids."

Liara nodded. "I understand. It is not an easy subject. How are you feeling?"

Shepard swirled her tea in her mug. "I don't really know. I mean, I didn't have a family for the first few years of my life. I ran with a gang; I ran drugs. And then I got picked up by the Alliance, and got adopted instead of thrown in the clink … forgot my old name and took a new one … and then joined up when I was old enough. I … family was different. Family was special. I never even thought about having kids. Life didn't work with kids. Kids … kids die."

Liara took a gulp of her tea. This was getting dark awfully fast. She of course knew Shepard's service and pre-service history, but stories were always harder coming from the mouth of someone you knew …

Shepard shook her head and waved her hand dismissively. "Sorry. Maybe a bit much. Just … I never thought kids could happen. I didn't _want _kids. I didn't even think I'd ever meet someone I could trust. Ah, fuck." She rubbed her forehead. "I'm sorry, Liara. I don't need to dump all this on you."

Liara exhaled slowly. "Shepard, it's alright. I am your friend, and I am happy to talk with you if you wish. This is … a difficult subject, and I understand."

The human woman pinched the bridge of her nose. "Yeah, I know, but this seems like the sort of stuff I'd talk with Thane about, or maybe with Mom. But Thane's … gone, and my mom's half a galaxy away … and who wants to hear about their daughter's love life?"

Liara smiled. "I'm sure Hannah would love to talk, if you wanted to."

Shepard nodded. "Yeah, probably, I suppose. But … oh hell, Liara, I just don't know what to say to you. I mean, I only just talked about this with Garrus. I _get _him, I trust him, and … for the first time in my life I want to be a mother. And I don't understand it. And you're offering to carry a child for us, and … don't get me wrong … it's floored me. I can barely wrap my brain around carrying a child _myself_, and you're giving us the chance to have a child of our own … that … oh Liara." She slipped down the wall and put her mug against her forehead.

Liara was quiet for a moment, then sat down across from Shepard, crossing her legs.

"Shepard. Can I tell you something?"

Shepard lowered her mug slightly and peeked out at the asari. " … Yeah."

Liara took a deep breath, then exhaled. "Alright. I am going to be entirely truthful with you, Shepard. I did not foresee that you would be pained about this to this degree, and I think my actions have been unhelpful in this. Please hear me out, and trust me." She smiled. "I am your friend, and that will never change."

Shepard nodded, remaining behind her mug.

"Shepard. My friend." Another deep breath. "I realized I loved you years ago, on the original Normandy. I was—_am—_young, and you were strong, mature, kind, caring, funny. You didn't treat me as second-class, and you considered my opinions just as carefully as anyone else's. Honestly, I wasn't sure why everyone wasn't head-over-heels in love with you." She smiled. "Though I suspect more people are than we may ever know."

Shepard said nothing, just watching the asari through the steam from her tea.

"As we worked together, I grew to respect you, and even to some degree understand you. This only increased my love for you. I was disappointed, but not angry, when you told me that you would prefer our relationship to remain that of friends. I threw myself into my work. You were still my friend, and I respected you entirely. I could not be angry with you. But it still hurt."

Shepard's eyes hit the floor.

"When you … died, it was like a fire had been lit inside me. I had to do something. I worked without fail and waited with impatience to hear of the Lazarus Project's success. I was overjoyed when I heard the first reports of your return filtering in through my network. When you turned up on my doorstep, it was like the sun coming up."

Shepard was silent. Liara paused and watched her friend.

"But, Shepard … while I still love you, I see and understand your love for Garrus. I have no desire to come between you and your soulmate. Our friendship has become so important to me over the years that I see you as my sister more than anything else: I would never be able to forgive myself if I did anything that hurt you or the one you love. Knowing that your love for Garrus cannot come to fruition in this most devoted, most sacred of ways … it hurts me far, far more than the pain of knowing that I am not to be your partner. So, Shepard: as your friend, I wish nothing more than to help you create life from the incredible love that you and Garrus share."

Shepard's eyes slowly rose again to meet her own.

"Yes, you presume correctly: it will hurt me to know that this child is of me but not of me; it will always hurt that I love you in ways you do not love me. But, Shepard – you are my friend. You have always been there for me; you love me, I suspect, in a very different way. And I in turn suspect that my love for you will slowly, over the years, transmute itself into an even deeper respect and friendship than I already have for you. And so I give myself to you to help you, not to harm you. To see you with a child would make me even happier than seeing you at my side."

Liara smiled.

Shepard remained silent.

Liara waited.

Shepard spoke.

"What about Feron?"

Liara smiled again. "I have decided to renew my friendship with him. I have a hunch that, with this extra experience of friendship and understanding, my relationship with Feron will take on very different aspects than my friendship with you."

Shepard returned to silence, and Liara returned to waiting.

"You're serious about all this, aren't you."

"Absolutely serious, Shepard."

More silence.

"I think I need more tea. Or maybe a hug."

"I could do both if you liked."

Shepard set her empty mug on the floor beside her and scooted closer to Liara, who wrapped her arms around the human woman.

Shepard reciprocated the hug and laid her head on Liara's shoulder. "You're a pretty awesome friend, Liara, you know that, right?"

Liara smiled and chuckled softly. "I try, Shepard."

"You make me tea and everything."

"But you made _me_ tea."

"But you're making more tea. And you're giving me a hug. The great Commander Shepard doesn't need hugs."

"I suspect the great Commander Shepard needs a hug more often than she knows."

"Mm. That's what I have Garrus for."

"True. But the great Commander Shepard also needs … what's the human expression? A girlfriend? I never understood human colloquialisms, they're always so sexually charged…"

The Commander laughed aloud. "Yeah. Yeah, I know. Fuck. Yeah, I guess the great Commander Shepard needs a girlfriend. Fucking hell. Don't let Joker get wind of that, he'll never shut up…"

Liara pulled away, holding Shepard at arm's length, hands on the other woman's shoulders. "More tea?"

"How about tea and a holovid? We can make it a girls' night."

"Do we have to have pillow fights? I read somewhere that human women do that …"

Shepard laughed again. "I guess we can if you want."

Liara stood, helping Shepard up. "I think a night of fun is in order. And all good nights of fun must begin with tea."

"Aye aye, girlfriend." The two women snickered, leaving Liara's quarters to start that second cup of tea.


End file.
